restingslasherface (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
restingslasherface) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2023-10-30 11:08 pm
restingslasherface) wrote in ph_logs2023-10-30 11:08 pm
Supression Request: These Feelings [November Open]
Who: "Slasher Face" Jean and YOU + 1 Closed
What: Jean fuckin' died y'all
When: Early November (before Voyage of the Hollow Men)
Where: Oak & Iron, the Community Board, Around Town, the Temple
Warnings: Discussion of death, Bad Feelings, likely shit from Jean's dark-ass canon, traumatic flashbacks, burning/scarring
Notes: Just getting on this early while I have spoons
Containment Breach [Oak & Iron | Closed to Zelda | CW Traumatic Flashbacks, Burning/Scarring]
Jean wakes with a start, and the phantom feeling of cold. Their clothes are ill-fitting butcher's slops, smelling incongruously of wet dog, and the uncomfortable sensation is almost enough for them to center themself.
Almost.
The sensation of burning starts immediately, and the contrast between their mind's insistence that they are freezing to death and the reality of the crawling heat against their left cheek draws a gritted sound of pain from their throat. Over the course of nearly a minute, a skull and crossbones is scorched into their face, and they have to take awhile to just breathe.
It's in vain. The tally mark comes next.
Jean has no idea that it's been exactly 24 hours, which means they're trapped in the inn; after all, it's well after dark. A familiar face might be needed to coax them out from under the table. Goddesses know the staff don't want anything to do with this.
Org Chart [Community Board]
Signup sheets go up on the community board, asking for volunteers for three emergency teams, just beneath a note explaining the idea.
To better effect emergency responses to the ongoing siege of Marrow Island, Comrade Jean (Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force) is seeking volunteers to staff and lead response teams which will coordinate on own initiative during notable crises. The teams are as follows:
COMBAT TEAM: Directly combat curse incursions with a focus on harm reduction and pro-active containment; protect citizens and infrastructure through violent force.
MEDICAL TEAM: First aid and triage, preventative care, bodymen. The grim work of aid during a disaster or surprise attack.
COMMUNICATIONS TEAM: Detect and report emergencies, coordinate activities between all teams and citizens, swiftly and effectively transmit information on the disaster in a concise manner.
Volunteers are encouraged to leave their names and phone numbers on the forms provided below, or to contact JEAN or MADAM PRINCESS ZELDA directly at their homes or anywhere in town. These teams are not sanctioned or sponsored by any existing organization on MARROW ISLAND and are strictly voluntary; however, JEAN is offering combat training to any citizen or Task Force member that desires it, regardless of volunteer status, during their shore leave between the hours of 6 AM and 1 PM.
[OOC Note: Feel free to leave a drive-by to just handwave volunteering, to seek Jean out in person for a thread, or even to attend training!]
This Meeting Could Have Been An Email [Around Town]
With the events of the festival heavy on their mind, Jean is making an effort to check in on friends, peers, and potential assets, not that those divisions are particularly clear in their mind right now. Did you make plans with Jean before the catastrophe? Here they are to follow up. Consider this the catch-all for That Thing That Was Plotted, but it's also the chance to catch Jean at the Oak & Iron getting their coffee, haunting the tailoring shops again with a distinct thought towards actually spending money on clothes, interrupt them grocery shopping, or otherwise gently find (and possibly hold) the nugget.
Fuck You, Pay Me [The Temple]
At some point when Jean feels like they've got ducks in a row, they come into the Temple of a morning to provide a strong contender for least reverent prayer in recent history. Curiously, they've washed up extra hard first, combed their messy hair and even shined their shoes, but...
Well. Jean doesn't kneel before the altar, and while their tone is quiet respect, the words...
"Your enemy seems to think you exist, Manager Kora, and that you have some manner of power, some stake in me. I fought too hard and too long to choose for myself only to end up here for reasons I couldn't control, and as amazing as that is...I don't work for free. Not ever again, not after the Library. I am not your plaything. If you want me as your employee...then we need to talk. And if you won't, kindly stop by the City, make an appointment with R-Corp to rent their cloning vats, and use them to go fuck yourself."
What: Jean fuckin' died y'all
When: Early November (before Voyage of the Hollow Men)
Where: Oak & Iron, the Community Board, Around Town, the Temple
Warnings: Discussion of death, Bad Feelings, likely shit from Jean's dark-ass canon, traumatic flashbacks, burning/scarring
Notes: Just getting on this early while I have spoons
Containment Breach [Oak & Iron | Closed to Zelda | CW Traumatic Flashbacks, Burning/Scarring]
Jean wakes with a start, and the phantom feeling of cold. Their clothes are ill-fitting butcher's slops, smelling incongruously of wet dog, and the uncomfortable sensation is almost enough for them to center themself.
Almost.
The sensation of burning starts immediately, and the contrast between their mind's insistence that they are freezing to death and the reality of the crawling heat against their left cheek draws a gritted sound of pain from their throat. Over the course of nearly a minute, a skull and crossbones is scorched into their face, and they have to take awhile to just breathe.
It's in vain. The tally mark comes next.
Jean has no idea that it's been exactly 24 hours, which means they're trapped in the inn; after all, it's well after dark. A familiar face might be needed to coax them out from under the table. Goddesses know the staff don't want anything to do with this.
Org Chart [Community Board]
Signup sheets go up on the community board, asking for volunteers for three emergency teams, just beneath a note explaining the idea.
To better effect emergency responses to the ongoing siege of Marrow Island, Comrade Jean (Pumpkin Hollow Recovery Task Force) is seeking volunteers to staff and lead response teams which will coordinate on own initiative during notable crises. The teams are as follows:
COMBAT TEAM: Directly combat curse incursions with a focus on harm reduction and pro-active containment; protect citizens and infrastructure through violent force.
MEDICAL TEAM: First aid and triage, preventative care, bodymen. The grim work of aid during a disaster or surprise attack.
COMMUNICATIONS TEAM: Detect and report emergencies, coordinate activities between all teams and citizens, swiftly and effectively transmit information on the disaster in a concise manner.
Volunteers are encouraged to leave their names and phone numbers on the forms provided below, or to contact JEAN or MADAM PRINCESS ZELDA directly at their homes or anywhere in town. These teams are not sanctioned or sponsored by any existing organization on MARROW ISLAND and are strictly voluntary; however, JEAN is offering combat training to any citizen or Task Force member that desires it, regardless of volunteer status, during their shore leave between the hours of 6 AM and 1 PM.
[OOC Note: Feel free to leave a drive-by to just handwave volunteering, to seek Jean out in person for a thread, or even to attend training!]
This Meeting Could Have Been An Email [Around Town]
With the events of the festival heavy on their mind, Jean is making an effort to check in on friends, peers, and potential assets, not that those divisions are particularly clear in their mind right now. Did you make plans with Jean before the catastrophe? Here they are to follow up. Consider this the catch-all for That Thing That Was Plotted, but it's also the chance to catch Jean at the Oak & Iron getting their coffee, haunting the tailoring shops again with a distinct thought towards actually spending money on clothes, interrupt them grocery shopping, or otherwise gently find (and possibly hold) the nugget.
Fuck You, Pay Me [The Temple]
At some point when Jean feels like they've got ducks in a row, they come into the Temple of a morning to provide a strong contender for least reverent prayer in recent history. Curiously, they've washed up extra hard first, combed their messy hair and even shined their shoes, but...
Well. Jean doesn't kneel before the altar, and while their tone is quiet respect, the words...
"Your enemy seems to think you exist, Manager Kora, and that you have some manner of power, some stake in me. I fought too hard and too long to choose for myself only to end up here for reasons I couldn't control, and as amazing as that is...I don't work for free. Not ever again, not after the Library. I am not your plaything. If you want me as your employee...then we need to talk. And if you won't, kindly stop by the City, make an appointment with R-Corp to rent their cloning vats, and use them to go fuck yourself."
no subject
Inside, there are two things.
The first is a gold ring emblazoned with a skull. A wave is molded into one side, the sun into the other. It is conveniently sized to fit on one of Jean's middle fingers.
The other is a glowing piece of paper, tightly rolled to fit inside. It should look somewhat familiar to Jean.
no subject
Jean looks up.
Looks down.
Up.
Down.
Objects and people just Appearing is not unknown to Jean but they associate it with the kind of technological development that, ideally, Marrow Island will never see, since it's built entirely on human suffering. They approach slowly, but this is merely professional caution; if someone's managed to rig this bottle to explode then, quite frankly - even as upset as Jean is right now - their bomb deserves to kill Jean, just for the innovation of it all.
They crouch next to the bottle, set it upright, and ponder. Eventually, this pondering resolves into slipping just one hand into Cobalt Scar so they can use the claw to extract the cork and shake out the Page and the ring. They set the bottle aside (and put the glove back in their pocket) and carefully put the ring down, still squatting.
Jean takes the strange Page, and reads it with the light behind their eyes. What do you say, little thing? Who are you?
no subject
The light is... old. Large. Much like the Parade, which was a fragment of something very vast, this also seems to come from an aspect of a greater entity rather than a person. Singer of sea shanties, wearer of the kiss of the summer sun. It tells the tales of the high seas, of adventure and treasure and derring-do. Of the wide open sea and an endless blue sky. Of freedom. Answering to no one but one's own heart.
And all the merciless, vengeful force of a stormy sea.
This gift, when equipped, comes with an outfit that consists of gender-neutral swashbuckler's garb, a finely-crafted pirate's cutlass, and a fabulous hat. It comes with expertise of a loose but aggressive swordsmanship style with increased skill in dodging, parrying, dirty fighting, cheap tricks, balancing, and acrobatics, all of which are significantly increased while standing on beaches, piers, or seafaring vessels. How very handy for a someone who fishes for a living!
no subject
That's. Such a strange thing to immediately encounter. Even Gebura had to grow into that understanding.
Jean picks up the ring and slips it on, and begins meditating over the Page. They'll be a bit, putting it on, but it is in their mind an equally unambiguous signal of acceptance. They can work like this.